There's No Secrets This Year
by SecretSparrowTodd
Summary: Burdens littered Mrs Lovett's mind, and she felt like she had no one left to turn to. One thought leads to another… and she goes to the barber. He's her last chance of empathy… and she reveals all. After all, she'd promised… there'd be no secrets this year. [Rated T so far. Only a short little story while I'm writing other stuff:) Obviously a blossoming Sweenett ;)]
1. Part 1

***There's No Secrets This Year***

**Summary: **

**Burdens littered Mrs Lovett's mind, and she felt like she had no one left to turn to. One thought leads to another… and she goes to the barber. He's her last chance… and she reveals all. After all, she'd promised… there'd be no secrets this year. Inspired by the song of the same name by Silversun Pickups :D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, just the initial plot.**

* * *

***-Part 1-***

"If we're gonna do this Mrs Lovett, you will have to promise me," he whispered, still not looking at her, just staring into the clear abyss of his half empty tumbler.

Eleanor Lovett stared at him longingly, for it was the longest sentence he'd ever said to her… she was lucky if she had gotten four words out of him, let alone a whole sentence that he, solely composed.

"P-promise ya what?" she breathed, standing by the booth he'd occupied. His frown burrowed farther down his strong brow.

"Promise me," he said quietly, slamming the glass down to purposely alert his accomplice. "Promise me that you will not lie to me Mrs Lovett. Now we are criminal partners, I do not want you to deceive me."

He paused and flicked his orbs to her. "We are in this together. Whether I like it not."

She glared at him, nodding her head. Clearly she'd been invisibly gagged… she was quite speechless at his sudden confrontation.

"From this point on, there will be no secrets."

She swallowed, feeling the ghost of Lucy burn her way into Eleanor's mind set. She blinked a few times and then the pale, yellowed hair apparition disappeared.

"Am I clear?" he interrupted, turning his head in the opposite direction to the baker.

"Yes," she replied, eyes wide and voice uncontrollably wobbly. "You're perfectly clear love. No lyin' an' no secrets."

He nodded.

"Good."

Mrs Lovett always made promises. And nearly always made them to the barber.

But she never kept them.

No matter how hard she tried.

* * *

Mrs Lovett ran, and ran, and ran… slowly flailing over the November ice. She regained her balance, her boots' heels grappling into the thin web of ice as her feet pounded the crumpled autumn ground.

Her incessant gasps made her windpipe dry, gradually, coarsely choking her senseless. Her hair pins were lost, forever gone; her auburn ringlets were knotted and matted against her pallid, clammy forehead.

Eleanor's usual opaque opal complexion was now tampered with… her cheeks were a sore red, her forehead was blotchy, and her skin was scattered with deep nail incisions, and gauges.

Despite the utter shame she felt, she sprinted on, knowing exactly who turn to. After all, who was left? She couldn't go to her Father… he was dead and he wouldn't have care if he _was_ alive. She was the neglected one that no one seemed to notice—just the girl in the background… _always _the one forgotten.

First person she thought of: Toby. Ha, like she'd turn to him, he was the one who'd gotten her into the ashamed state in the first place! How could she _ever _forgive the lad after this? All she wanted to do now she thought of him, was to wring her hands around his neck, see him in cruelly engrossed pain…

And the second? Mr Todd, the stoic barber who never uttered a word, unless he needed to. And as delusional and mad as it seemed, Eleanor just _knew _he would sympathise with her, she knew that he'd comprehend her state and her current feelings… despite the fact he was _"unfeeling and too caught up in 'is own miserable grief" _as she'd once called it.

She was almost certain he could console in her hour of need.

She felt stray salty tears slice menacingly into her flushed cheeks.

_Pain_

Her itchy throat caught, the freezing night air and her hitching breath, causing her to sob manically.

Ordinary street-goers stopped and stared as she raced by them, leaving a trail of hair grips as she went.

The obvious shame continued to eat her, the disgusted and bewildered glances she received throwing her to an isolated kingdom, there for show, there for nothing but usage.

_Swallowed_

Luckily, and to her relief, when she rounded the next bricked corner, she'd reached her dark end of Fleet Street.

Anticipation flooded through her nerves and she slowed into a jog. Leaves littered the damp, sodden cobbled ground, which caused her to slip slightly.

She sobbed as she soon reached 186 Fleet Street, completely ignoring her shop, but heading for the familiar stairs of her favourite barber, nearly clumsily tripping over the first stair.

Her half gloved fingers gripped the frosty banister tightly as she hauled herself up. After a maximum effort, due to her unhelpful wheezing, she conquered the barber's stairs.

Reaching the top, Eleanor knew that he was her last chance, her last resort. But they'd both promised… they needed to stop keeping secrets from one another, so what's the point on _making _secrets? She had to tell him _now_. Before she would hide the heavy shame she truly felt forevermore.

* * *

The stomping noise already frustrated him, grated on him.

It was the sound of _her _heels, hitting _his _wooden stairs.

'_Doesn't the woman know that those bloody infernal boots make dents?!'_

As he was rudely torn from his thoughts because of the sound, he watched his gleaming razor, observing its glow in the moonlight's reflecting rays. He couldn't help smiling at how magnificent in truly looked…

_Clomp. Clomp. Clomp. Sob. _

Sweeney frowned and stopped smirking, flicking his raven eyes to the darkness through the windows of his door.

He could hear sobbing, and the trickle of tears. He usually enjoyed the sound of misery, of pain, of hatred. However, this was something more. Something that he did not like. One bit.

And for once, he was certain he was not the cause… as he usually was if _she _was crying.

His frown deepened and he flicked back to his friend, admiring its call, its glisten.

_Clomp. Sob. Sob. Clomp-_

The door burst open, rudely interrupting Mr Todd once more. The shop's bell jingled which only added to the homicidal barber's frustration. Where had all the silence (as the grave was) gone in the world?!

He growled, irritated, when the door slammed shut, making the whole building shudder—he didn't look up at the quivering form that entered, he already knew it'd be _her._

"You did not _knock,_" Sweeney stated harshly, teeth gritted and eyes narrowed.

The female wheezed, half coughing, half sobbing.

Sweeney's eyes widened as he heard this, and his frown lifted, lowering his razor from his eye line.

"What do you _want _Mrs Lovett?" he spat, still not daring to look at her, he'd explode like a volcano if he did… Who did she think she was, calling in on him at this time at night?!

"I-I want h-help." She replied shyly, still fighting away her blubbing. He took his gaze immediately upwards to face her shivering form, which stood a mere 4 foot from where he sat on the barber chair.

She looked quite the sight.

Her copper hair was tangled into a dark web of humid, heavy mess. Her skin was covered in bleeding scratches (from nails?) and fresh bite marks (from human teeth?). Her usually bright eyes, were shadowed with a red veil of soreness from over an hour of constant tears. Her heeled boots were laden with embers of dead, sopping leaves. And her dress had been fiercely ripped at the sleeves and her middle, revealing some of her half bruised stomach.

"Mrs Lovett?" he addressed, not quite sure what to say when she hadn't said anything further.

She whimpered, knees wobbling as she shivered with fright. She felt exposed in front of him, red flushing to her cheeks again when shame struck her smack in the heart.

"Th-They 'urt me Mr T! They- They-"

He glared and stood abruptly, seeing that the woman was finding even the simplest standing position difficult.

"Sit," he ordered, rather softly than usual gruff tone.

Her lip trembled and she hobbled over to his barber chair, collapsing into it instantly when she got near. Her tired eyes squeezed shut and she started to cry again.

"What happened?" he asked, in a small voice.

"I don' wanna talk 'bout it!" she snapped, throwing her face into her bloodsoaked palms.

"Well," he retorted, crossing his arms as he stood in front of her. "If y'don't tell me, I can't help you, can I?"

"Ha! Ya won't anyway!" she shot back, sniffling into her hands. "Ya don' care!"

He scowled and lowered his arms, balling his hands into fists on his sides.

'_Oh if only you knew Mrs Lovett,' _he thought, _'You should see what I'm thinking now as I look at you…So lost. So… stubborn. So distraught… as I.'_

"Tell. Me." he pressed on, clenching his teeth. She took her scratched hands from her face, the fresh tears vanishing to dry over the thin wounds on her face, stinging singing her skin.

"I-I'm too ashamed," she whispered, like she was one of those girls scared of the dark. "You might laugh at me…"

He dropped his mask of irritation, leaving an almost compassionate look about him. "No… I won't, if someone… hurt you… I would never laugh. Why should I?"

It sounded wrong now he'd said it, but it felt better now he'd admitted it.

Mrs Lovett winced and sniffed. "Alright then," she said shakily, sighing shallowly. "Well, y'remember 'bout two hours ago I came up t'give y'some supper early?" He nodded, getting the lost puppy eyes she always felt remorse emitting from. "Y-you were going out?" he asked, but it came out as a statement.

"Y-yes. Toby were determined t'take me to the opera, an' since we 'ave a bit 'o money now, who am I to refuse? So I went along with it… an' I knew you wouldn't wanna come so I never asked."

"On the way, Toby decided t'take a short cut so 'e could go t'the sweet shop… but I said 'cause it were so late we should stick t'main roads… but 'e'd already ran off! I tried t'keep up with 'im but the lad 'ad already ran off to fast for me t'catch 'im!"

"I dunno where I were, but it were dark an' some pubs… and a load 'o alleyways… I were so lost… I didn't know wot t'do! I didn't know whether t'go back or t'follow Toby!"

Sweeney met her teary eyes when she lifted her gaze to him.

"S-so what did you do?" he questioned, already fearing the answer she was about to enlighten him with.

"I went after 'im… an' an'… I passed the first pub… an' there were a-a- group 'o men outside… didn't know any of 'em… jus' mindin' me own business I was!" she exclaimed, still short of breath from her sprinting earlier. "I wasn't fazed at all, they didn't even look _bad men… _An' the one of 'em caught me arm an' pushed me into an alleyway nearby… an' the others followed… 'E pushed into the wall… and 'e… 'e…"

Sweeney glared at her, horror and sympathy wired into his eyes.

"'E… did things t'me…an'… the others joined in…"

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she sobbed again, squeezing her eyes shut.

Sweeney stood motionless, opening and closing his mouth. Eleanor? Eleanor Lovett? Eleanor had been… raped? She was the last he'd think of to suffer from that… well… yes she was… attractive but, she could handle herself, fight in her wing…. He hadn't thought of it ever happening to her.

After the hesitation, he grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the barber chair.

"Oh god Mr T… Please… Please don't—" she begged. "I ain't gonna let _you_ do it to me—"

He lifted her chin with his thumb, letting her face his shocked glare.

"I would _never _do a filthy, perverse thing like that to you. Nor any other beggar under my watch, Eleanor."

She swallowed and blinked back tears as she stared longingly into his wonderful averted orbs. She was bewildered at the softer side she'd seemed to have dug up inside of him.

"Do you have any bandages? And ointment?" he asked hurriedly and their eyes slowly met again; she bit her already bruised lip.

He wasn't going tend to her _wounds _was he?

"Y-yeah. In me bedroom…" she said shyly.

He frowned and nodded, rather like a soldier doing his duty; he took hold of her full body in his arms, one arm firmly gripping her waist, one arm hoisting up her legs.

"Come on then," he said gruffly. "Hook your arms 'round me or else you'll slip an' break somethin'."

Without a word, Eleanor let out a shuddery breath, and with a genuine look of adoration, she wrapped her arms around his neck cautiously.

"Thanks Love…" she whispered hoarsely.


	2. Part 2

**Thank you to Lily, The infamous hogwarts jaguar00, EllieLovettBovine, Noodlemantra, Redejeka, XxNachoxX and RubyRosette5! You guys rock for reviewing! *bear hugs screen*  
**

**A HUG and A THANK YOU TO LovettHelenaist because: one, YOU ARE AWESOME and two, you might just make this fanfic the best one (from me) yet! Thank you for your wonderful idea, my dear**** (it is SORT of in this chapter but will definitely be in ****all**** of the chapters after this one :D)**** ;) x**

**More reviews= Part 3 UPLOAD= Evil author? Mua haha x**

* * *

*******There's No Secrets This Year***

***-Part 2-***

Mrs Lovett lay in wait in the parlour, feeling evermore tired from the abusive events that had occurred, and from the heat from the roaring flames in front of her.

Sweeney was in her room, gripping his hair with both hands.

He couldn't find her medical stuff. Where the hell would it be? Her room wasn't even that big!

He felt himself start to panic, and he began to pace, eyes darting about her room. He had to find the ointment and bandages… he just had to… if he didn't, she would be in danger… because of him…

_Survival_

He muttered curses under his breath and then stopped, seeing a shadowy object beneath her bed. Good job the room was lit by candles, or he would never have seen it.

He heaved out a heavy sigh and knelt down beside her comfy looking bed. He grunted as he stretched his arm out underneath it. He could feel something flat, solid and cool; he frowned.

"What the—?"

"Love?!" Eleanor called to him, clearly feeling so tired she was sure she would fall asleep any moment.

"One moment!" he said loudly, ignoring the object he'd found to move his hand onto a box directly beside the unknown discovery. He snatched the box and jumped up, hearing the heavy thud of the rolling bottle of ointment inside, which was pretty comforting.

He emerged from her room, clutching her medical box, which she was surprised he'd found.

But then again, he was pretty intelligent—so she wasn't really surprised at all.

He sat at the opposite end of the settee, by her feet. She shuffled her lounging body slightly as he opened the wooden box on his lap. "Sit still," he said, making her swallow nervously as he wasn't even looking at her at that time—so that was… creepy…

A white rag in one hand, and the opened bottle of ointment in the other; Sweeney motioned with his head for her to come closer. She hesitated, but then complied and sat up, scooching over the couch to sit by his side.

"Your face first," he said, pouring a civilised amount of the scary looking liquid onto the cloth.

She winced and turned to face him, closing her eyes. There was no point doing otherwise now. It wouldn't be good if she resisted… and anyway, this was the first time he'd sat down next to her, just to prioritise her first… before revenge. Before Lucy…

"This _will _sting, but I can't—"

"'S fine love, jus'… do it…" she butted in, smiling when she felt him move closer, and even though her eyes were closed, she knew he was looking right at her, face to face. She found herself rid of all shame she had previously felt when his scent wafted up into her nose, his intoxicating… whimsical… sizzling… scent.

His steady breathing calmed her anticipation when he crept even closer, sodden cloth in one hand. He pressed it to large scratch on her chin, holding her head still with his other palm. Eleanor hissed and winced, but ignored the singe-like pain because of his touch on the left side of her forehead; his scent and his pure existence soothed everything.

After a few more seconds, he dabbed the cut and placed the cloth onto another seeping wound on the right side of her forehead.

"Ow," she said quietly, feeling the ointment melt into her ripped flesh.

"Did they follow you?"

"Hm? Whassat dear?"

"Did they follow you… the… _men."_

She sighed as his bare hand accidentally stroked down the left of her face as he lightly gripped her chin so he could hold her still.

"No. I jus' 'eard the bastards laughing as I ran away. Why?"

"I… don't want them comin' after you. 'Cause… you're not made to suffer such filthy abuse such as that… no woman is."

'_Lucy. Lucy had.'_

The cloth disappeared from her head, and so did the hand on her chin. She opened her eyes when she felt something soft and skin-like caress the left side of her face. At first, she'd expected his hand and nothing more… but when she was faced with the situation of him nuzzling her with his nose, she closed her eyes and froze, letting him do what he wished.

"How could they… treat you so… badly…?"

She swallowed, feeling his skin vanish from hers.

In the next two seconds, the ointment …. Infernal medicine!

She really did prefer his touch so much more…

After an hour of pain—stinging pain that was—Eleanor had had all of her wounds tended to. Sweeney insisted that he should take a look at the bruises on her stomach but she just shook her head and said she felt a lot a better, so there was no need.

He tucked a lock of her auburn hair behind her ear, meeting her eyes.

"Eleanor," he whispered, eyes studying her simply, with admiration. "You are not to work tomorrow, you understand? I don't want you goin' about work with bite marks an' scratches all over you—"

She frowned. "Why _not_?! You'll be workin'! Who else'll tend to the pies?!"

He shook his head, tracing her lips with his fingers—he wasn't sure why he was doing this, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time he'd started doing it…

"I'll stay with you down here, tonight and tomorrow. Jus' to make sure not workin'."

'_What has gotten into that man?! Yesterday 'e was completely oblivious to me bleedin' existence! An' now look at 'im! 'E's touchin' me all over! Wh-Why?—'_

She sighed and nodded, finding her thoughts unhelpful and more tiring to think of, "Fine."

Well, she supposed, if he was with her… she would be content.

"Do you want me to carry you to bed?" he asked, rather nervously.

She furrowed her brow as she tried to sit up, wincing when her stomach felt as if it was crumbling, caving in on her. She hissed and fell back down to her lying position from before.

"No." she answered. Even if she wouldn't have mover her body herself, she would still find any movement around her painful. "I'm fine. I'll jus' sleep 'ere tonight."

He averted his eyes from her improper slouching position (it must have been the most comfortable position for her) and nodded. "I will fetch a blanket for you."

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to protest, but he'd already stood, with the Maplewood box in his clutches as he sauntered stiffly to her room. Her mouth closed and she huffed, "'E's too damn nice now."

Sweeney dropped to his knees, sliding the box steadily under her bed. His cool fingers brushed against that foreign object again, and he frowned—curiosity was one of Benjamin's weaknesses….and one of Sweeney's too. That's about the only emotion they shared, that he was aware of obviously.

His hands gripped onto it and he brought the object into view, letting it gracefully rest in his palms. The candlelight helped once again, illuminating the darkness around his form to reveal the flat solid shape.

_A book._

_A thin, notebook one._

It was soft in his hands, with gorgeous leather covers (opposed to the traditional hard back wood). He raised an eyebrow and opened the front, uncovering the contents of the book….

_The Diary of Eleanor Susanna Lovett_

He glared at the page.

_DIARY? _She kept a…_she could write? _Well, he knew she read… why the hell hadn't he realised she could write too?!

He, without a single moments thought, turned the first page.

She clearly must have had another diary before that one, hence it started at July of the year prior, 4 months before he had returned from Botany Bay (shiver).

He felt his organs tighten as he read her elegant raven handwriting. He was shocked to see how it started…

'_I know he'll return. I have faith in him. He's the only reason I exist; the only reason why I would become a bad person, if that was what he wished of me. I know he's close to me, and soon I won't have to wait for him any longer. I can hear his deep voice in my thoughts, smell his scent all around… I like it. I miss it. Yes, you know I loved Benjamin. However, I have a feeling, that I'll love this man more…'_

"Mr T?! 'S everythin' alright?!"

He gasped and slammed the book shut, forcefully pushing away from him, back under the dark vacuum of her bed.

"Yes! Yes jus'… getting… your blankets."

He got up from his kneeling position and tugged her bedcovers, pulling away from her mattress. He gathered them all in a baby bundle in his arms, carrying them out of her room.

Thoughts about her diary plagued his mind. Shouldn't those sort of feelings have been written in Lucy's diary? Not… _hers._

_Lucy _should have been the one giving him the chance of returning, of making things better. Had Lucy even believed in him?

'_She was raped. She went mad. She took the poison. She died. Of course she didn't believe in me! She would have if… _the judge _had not gotten his way with her…_

_Nellie could end up like her too'_

_Nellie? Whatever happened to Eleanor? Or Mrs Lovett?_

He lowered his eyes when he reached her, draping the covers over her without a word. His usual empty, thoughtful expression was back. Nellie was a little disappointed at that… but she hadn't expected his odd emotion change to last long… she'd enjoyed it, and supposed he'd just acted like that due to her state.

"Thanks love," she said hoarsely. He nodded and straightened out the covers over her, wrapping her up tightly—she frowned at this action but just chuckled it off, bloody _OCD._

He made sure she was tucked up tightly, and placed more cushions behind her pretty little head.

"Why are ya doin' this?" she asked quietly, gasping when he turned and walked back into her room. "Mr T! Where ya—"

She sighed.

She _did_ feel comfortable. He definitely knew how to make someone ill very happy with themselves. He was a murderer, yes. But that was beside the point-she felt like a royal queen of some… odd place that didn't even exist. And truly? She felt loved, and didn't feel anything like she ever used to.

She didn't feel neglected like when she was little, and her two little sisters and her elder brother stole away the attention.

She didn't feel unloved like when she'd first gotten married to Albert.

And she certainly didn't feel unfortunate like when the Barkers first moved in, she had been terribly troubled those first few months… she'd even considered taking her own life it was that bad.

No.

Now…

She felt wanted.

She felt loved.

She felt fortunate.

He emerged from her room, holding a staff of flickering candles in each hand.

He placed one lot next to the cabinet of her old heirlooms and antiques; he placed the other lot on the small wispy table by the settee, her feet were at that end so the light wouldn't keep her awake.

He sat next to her feet, quietly looking down at the floor under his feet. Before her eyes started to droop, she swore she saw him look at her with something different in his eyes… something _him _yet _not. _Her eyes closed and she leant back into the soft cushions behind her, aching bones falling in a feather light fashion.

She was drifting off, for once, to a world of perfect bland wonder, of unexciting blank dreams and a non-mysterious, boring man to match; or that's what it seemed when one looked at it.

But in actual fact, in reality, it wasn't tedious at all.

In reality, this boring man _was _mysterious—just watching at her sleeping with great intent. She snored a little and the corners of his mouth lifted a little with amusement. He carefully slid over the couch, cautious to not make the covers rustle. He perched himself on the small part of couch left next to her form, and he looked down into her face, watching her abused face take on a wonderful, pure peace that no one could ever fake.

Sweeney ignored the niggling question of why he'd moved closer to her, replacing it with a valid adoration of her beautiful features. Despite being covered in bites, scratches and bruises; her crooked, abused darkness intrigued him.

_Infected Angel_

He turned and managed to lie next to her, finding that snaking his arm around her shoulders was the only way to keep himself on the sofa. She made a little whimpering noise and then turned to face him square in the face, eyes shut and covering her attractive orbs.

He swallowed when she seemed to snuggle in his right side, very nearly head butting him.

He, without hesitation, sunk down so they were properly face to face, bringing his free arm up to cradle her cheek in his palm. He leant in closer to her, closing his eyes. He caught her lips and left a small, innocent kiss onto he unresponsive mouth.

When she didn't kiss back, he took himself away from her, just lying there next to her, arm coiling around her neck and shoulders, to protect her.

When he'd said no secrets, he'd really meant it.

But perhaps…

This kiss.

This protection.

This could be his own secret, she never needed to know.

And neither did the ghost of his poor, poor Lucy.

Yes, he'd promised no more secrets…

She had promised no more secrets too…

But surely,

just one of his own wouldn't hurt?

She would never have to know.

She would never know it, but…

_She_ was his secret.


	3. Part 3

**Thanks to these followers for reviewing! : LovettHelenaist, AppropriateAsAlways, Redejeka, The infamous hogwarts jaguar00, DollyDaydreamer, Lily, EllieLovettBovine and dionne dance ;) x**

**Idea starts here LovettHelenaist, thank you for being an inspiration! xx  
**

**Remember, reviews= Part 4 upload (might take a little longer as I'll have less time to update next time, but I'll work hard ;D)**

* * *

***There's No Secrets This Year***

***-Part 3-***

Busy. Busy. Busy.

Rush. Rush. Rush.

Eleanor was now fully recovered from the prior week's uneasy events. Although she was faced with fear ridden memories of the abuse she'd received, she carried on her daily life, regardless of the gossip that had somehow reached her customers ears…

She was a hell of a lot busier, and today, well she'd nearly just about blown her top.

Just before the night rush hour began, a little pale face appeared at her window, almost ghost–like and she'd absolutely shat herself with two glaring eyes and a windswept tuft of hair greeting her—

Toby waved at her through the shop's window, smiling away like he'd stumbled across a year completely full of Christmas presents. Well, yes, he didn't know what had happened to Eleanor while he'd gone rushing off… but… that was not the point.

It was _his_ fault that she'd been attacked. It was dangerous for a lady to be alone at night…

'_Mr Todd wouldn't 'ave left me alone…'_

The boy giddily ran into her shop, bubbling with excitement. She didn't acknowledge his entrance, she just continued to look down at her actions, and resumes laying the tables.

"'Ello Mum!" he chirped, skipping further into the shop.

"Don' call me that." She snapped, frowning down at the table's surface before her. "Where the 'ell 'ave you been?"

"Oh I was lookin' for Fleet Street 'gain. I forgot where it was. London's a big place ma'am."

She straightened and narrowed her eyes, turning around to face him, knives and forks in her hands. She had no idea where all of this anger came from, but something strange had enticed her to become resentful to the lad.

"_Forgot? 'Ow could you forget! You 'ave no idea 'ow worried I was when I went after ya last Friday!"_

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! 'Was excited, is all!" he whined, wringing his hands nervously.

"That's no excuse! Do you 'ave _any _idea what 'appened to _me_ whilst _you _were off gallivanting?!"

When he muttered a 'No', she slung down the load of cutlery she held in her palms onto the table behind her. She advanced towards him, frowning hard.

"I thought not."

"Wot's wrong? 'As Mr T done somethin' to ya?!"

"No. No, _it's you. You_'re the one who 'as done something!"

"Wot—"

"You aren't welcome 'ere anymore boy. Not after wot you got me into." She said, suddenly bursting into tears. "G-Get out."

Toby frowned, bewildered.

"Mum?"

"_Don' call me that!" _she shouted, pointing to the door. "_GET OUT!"_

The boy whimpered and shot out of the door, just as she fell to her knees.

Tears returned to her eyes, threatening to spill over again. Shame was hitting her too, that same feeling she had felt when she'd ran from the men who'd laughed at her misery.

A dull thud of feet on wood sounded, alerting her.

Her crying halted and she got up from her shop floor, wiping her cheeks and straightening out the front of her dress.

She sighed and turned away from view of the door, grabbing the knives and forks she'd left on the table. She busied herself with another booth next to that table, swallowing back the shame lump in her dry throat.

The fragile door opened and slammed shut just as quick as it had flung open.

Sharp intakes of breath from the person told her they'd been running, running down stairs. "I 'eard shouting." he panted, bent over double to catch his breath. She turned, faking a cheery smile… as if everything was fine.

"Did ya? There were no one in 'ere with me—"

"I thought we'd promised no lies, Eleanor."

She sighed and eyed the floor, too shy to look up and into his accusing face. "Toby came back. I lost me temper, is all."

He stood in front of her, shaking his head, "You're upset? From him leavin' you that night?"

She nodded, frowning.

The barber had been like that since _that_ night… asking questions as if he was _concerned. _Didn't he know she could cope bally well on her own? She… liked him asking things like 'How are you?' and other kinds of 'feeling' associated questions but… It was out of the blue… why now? Why now when she had to open up shop in fifteen minutes?!

The man didn't make any sense!

"Oh! You're the last person I wanna talk to about this! Can y'just leave me alone Mr T!" she snapped loudly, turning to face him with a disgruntled scowl.

_Oh._

_He looked hurt by that._

His eyes were sad; he looked lost now that he stared into her eyes. His normally tense shoulders were hunched and relaxed as he tried to read her inside thoughts through the mirror of her magnificent eyes.

How can she say that?! She'd _waited _for him, so she would _never_ have to be alone! And he'd returned, just as she'd hoped! Why was she saying that?! She had promised no lies!

"No," he whispered, grabbing her hands and snatching the cutlery out of them. "I can't leave you alone. Not again."

"Leave me?! _Again_? Wot? Wot do y'mean?"

'_Your diary tells the truth, hides the lies, hides the secrets. If I read all of your life in that book, through my own eyes… I would probably know you better than you do yourself…'_

"I… I don't know," he said, placing the knives and forks on the table behind her.

"I think you _do_ know," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "Or else y'wouldn't 'ave said it!"

His eyes strayed from her face, down to her boots, where they lingered for a while.

"Well? Go on! Enlighten me Mr Todd! Seein' as we all deserve to die, I shan't waste any more time waiting for anything, especially for wot a stubborn git like you 'as to say!"

_Good things always come to those who wait_

"I… can't… tell you."

_It's a secret_

She put her hands on her hips, and eyed him, wishing he'd lift his head up and face her whilst they were conversing.

"Come on then! I 'aven't got all day! I got a three 'our rush to go through! Wi' no help whatsoever! I mean, who do y'think you are? 'Askin' me 'ow I am… 'Are you alright Eleanor?' Well! NO! I am not ALRIGHT! I 'ave a 'helpful' barber brooding away upstairs, when 'e could be right 'elpful down 'ere, aiding 'is dear old neighbo—"

Sweeney leaned forward, cupping her face in his hands as he lifted his face up to look at her. He leaned in and kissed her, thumbs stroking her soft skin as his mouth pressed into her plump, neglected lips.

She glared at him, not registering what was happening. He—he felt… glorious…

She shoved him off, not sure why exactly.

"Wh-Wha—"

"Sweeney Todd! Wot the bloody 'ell d'ya think ya doin'?!"

"I… can't tell you… so I… thought I'd show you." He breathed, still stroking her face.

"Wot?! An' why did y'think that it would 'elp by _kissing_ me?!"

He frowned and took his hands off her.

"I can't kiss you? Why not?" he questioned, whispering dangerously.

"'Cause… 'Cause it 'urts! It 'urts 'cause y'just kiddin' me! It 'urt's 'cause y'don't care! _It 'urts 'cause y'don't love me!"_

"_Well maybe I do LUCY!"_

Mrs Lovett froze, gaping at him in shock.

She could've smacked him—how could he call her his wife's name? A maddening, silly, innocent, bitchy, little nit like that?! She was nothing like _Lucy! How could he…_

She roiled with anger and reached her palms out, shoving him hard on the chest causing him to stumble backwards.

"Leave. Me. Alone. How dare ya… call me that!" she said quietly. "_I _am not _yours _Sweeney Todd, face facts. Just like I wasn't those _men's _either."

She swung up her right arm to strike his cheek, but he managed to catch her wrist in the process.

"Don't make me out to be one of them Eleanor… They're the _vermin. _The scum of the Earth… the ones I am to eliminate—"

"Exactly," she hissed, trying wriggle her wrist from his grip, but the movement was in vain.

"You can't say tha—"

"Get off my wrist Sweeney. Please. You're 'urtin me."

Within a split-second after her last statement, he instantly let go of her wrist; he looked down at the floor, in a fluster on empty, embarrassing defeat. "Fine," he whispered, locking himself up mentally, otherwise his secret might just slip out… and this was definitely not how he wanted her to find out what it was…

"Fine…" he muttered again, with widened his eyes containing a psychotic flash.

Mrs Lovett, rubbing her reddened wrist stood awkwardly, quite frightened. She swallowed when he flicked his furious, maddening, devious eyes up into her face.

"_Liar!" _he growled.

He took hold of her lower arms to stop her from resisting, and tugged her to him. She tried… well she _thought_ she tried to squirm away from him… whether she did or not, didn't have any effect on his grip because of his impeccable strength.

"Would vermin of the Earth do _this_?!"

Sweeney, still tightly binding her arms together, leaned in, pulling her up closer to him. He closed his eyes and collided into her lips—

_Her struggling ceased._

The touch of his lips against hers seemed to ease the mental friction between them, and increased their darkly complicated thoughts on one another. She found herself reacting to him, her half-bruised lips tingling from the sensation of his healed, perfect ones.

He pulled away before they both were tempted to do something stupid… and regrettable. He let go of her arms and watched her as her eyes unclosed.

"_I-I … _I'm a liar," she whispered, dropping her arms by her sides. "You aren't a _bad _man Mr T… Alright, so ya kill or two every now an' then… but you're the saint that is getting' rid 'o the bad ones—"

"This isn't about me," he breathed, lost in drinking in her features before him. "'S about _you."_

Eleanor was almost rendered speechless, and blinked, fascinated—Was this the same barber that had ignored her? The one that took her for granted? The one that never took an ounce of notice at her romantic gestures, or her battering eyelashes?

"M-Me?"

He nodded slightly. "Always you…"

'_Always my secret…'_

Not knowing how to respond, she sighed and her eyelids fluttered shut; she hooked her slender arms around his smooth neck, standing upon her boots' tiptoes to reach his face.

At first, she had only anticipated on giving him a quick touch of her lips to show her admiration of him…

She did just that, placing a sweet peck to his mouth, about to pull away…

As her lips left him, he blinding guided his head down, dipping to discover her paranormally attractive mouth once more. The kiss was long, borderline heated, but filled with utter irresistibleness, bursting with tenderness and a slight magnetic force.

_Parallel._

That's what they were.

They were on level ground despite being opposites of each other; male, female, broody, cheery, silent, talkative— barber, baker.

Before that connection between them, they hadn't really seen each other, only mere hallucinations. That moment was their first outlook on real life, they saw the person behind the black veil of blood, pies and gore.

Eleanor had taken longer to find it, she was always frightened of the unknown, and still was.

She would never admit her fears, her fears of being loved… she had never felt it before… and most certainly had hardly ever _received it. _She didn't know if that was what he was giving her now, showing her how much she meant to him… or whether he just had an _urge _to kiss her…

Sweeney would expect her to know, she just seemed like she would.

Yes, she knew she was in love with him. And knew how to show him that.

But the way he would show it would be different… confusing, blinding…

That was what she was frightened of.

What if she never noticed it?

Never noticed the moment he declared his love for her… maybe not with words or romantic advances, but just by the way her cared for her, talked to her…

_Lived for her_

She couldn't bare that thought…

_Fear of being oblivious to his affection _

Not knowing what love was from another.

That was her real secret.


	4. Part 4

**Hello. Sorry for the delay. Too much work! xD**

**Thank you to the following for reviewing! :**

**The infamous hogwarts jaguar00, DollyDaydreamer, AppropriateAsAlways, EllieLovettBovine, Redejeka, wemma16, Noodlemantra and a nice, lovely Guest! 8-) **

**Reviews= Part 5! (If you want a part 5!)**

* * *

***There's No Secrets This Year***

***-Part 4-***

Thoughts plagued Eleanor Lovett that night.

When she weaved her way around the tables, giving tables their orders; the thoughts were there.

When she turned the door's sign to 'Sold Out', and then another victim trailed up those stairs; the thoughts were there.

When she had to 'listen' to her customers whining about the life stories, especially the ones who kept her from working, she would look up to the top of those stairs and see that _he _was there, blankly staring back at her; _the thoughts were there._

Eleanor couldn't stop thinking of him. Even when she knew she should have been thinking about the person she was serving (the consumer or the victim in the pie), he was always there; his presence would loom over her. She didn't know whether that was good or not.

And it wasn't just the whole aspect of him, it was the fact that something was troubling him. Because he had a lot on his mind… he'd let four of his customers go, and they hadn't had anyone else with them…

Yes, something was most definitely _up._

And so that only increased the thoughts. He'd never been troubled so bad that he'd let more than one man have freedom!

Eleanor wasn't fully concentrating.

And so, she'd closed late, because she wasn't time keeping.

It wasn't very good being open until gone eleven at night (opposed to just after ten), she'd first opened late anyway since the barber had been kissing her… for quite a long time… after calling her by his late wife's name. What an odd man.

Sweeney Todd really was a mystery to her.

After kissing her for a long ten minutes (meaning she had to open twenty five minutes due to the fact he'd kept her from kitchen preparations), he'd left with a "might see you later" and she was left standing there, dreamily flustered—damn man! Analysing him was so exhausting!

And so, because he was lost in his troubles; because she was lost in her confused thoughts, sleep was something needed that night—for both of them.

* * *

For once, Sweeney Todd welcomed sleep, and had fallen asleep in his dear old barber chair. His relaxed hand was razor clad, and his arms hugged to him for warmth.

Damn November! Always so bloody cold!

His burdens didn't help him with his warmth either. So he sometimes shook and shivered so much, he would jump and sit there awake again, still cuddling himself for heat.

And funnily enough, this was what had occurred then, just as Eleanor was closing up.

"So f-f-freezing." He muttered, teeth chattering. It was only November –what would it be like in _December?!_

Wait a minute? Why did Sweeney Todd care that he was cold? Why was he even _sleeping? _Sweeney Todd never slept! He… must have had something on his mind. And he'd gotten tired. Which was new to him.

"Eleanor," he whispered, sitting up straight in the chair, curling up to keep heat close. "It's you keeping me cold isn't it? This is my punishment for calling you Lucy…"

And then her diary came to his mind.

Maybe, if he read her diary, which she would most likely be writing an entry for now, he could solved his problem. And he wouldn't be so cold…

Of course! Why hadn't he thought of it before?! Reading her last entry will make him feel loads better! He smirked, still shivering. Yes, that would be so much better… He was so caught up in thinking about his plan of how to get the diary, he had fallen asleep again, wondering what she had written about him… maybe something bad—maybe something good.

As he was snoring away upstairs, Nellie had entered her room and just finished writing in her diary, sighing with hope and content as she slipped her nightdress on. She slid into bed, wrapping herself tightly in her luscious duvet. The deep velvety maroon covers were soft and welcoming to her skin. The cushion she nestled the secret beauty of her face in, was modest and comforting to her aching head. The whole bed just let her poor bones heal.

Peaceful, wasn't a good enough word to describe how wonderful the softness felt on her fragile fatigued frame.

So quiet, so tranquil… her eyes would never ever latch open in the morning, her muscles would never ever move, she just knew it.

"_GAH!"_

Eleanor moaned, wincing now that peace had gone.

What the hell was that?

She didn't dwell on it and moved on, burying herself into further tranquillity.

Who knows, knowing Eleanor, she probably imagined it?

* * *

"_GAH!" _he cried, kicking at the unknown shadow, who was meowing at him from under one of the shop's booth, green eyes glowing in the sheet of black glow over the place.

"Bloody cat! How'd you get in 'ere? Shoo y'filthy piece of sh—"

The tabby ran up to him, purring as it rubbed against his legs.

"Fleabag!" Sweeney shot at the feline, whispering because he didn't want to awaken Eleanor; he gave the cat a look of disgust. The pussycat started to meow quite loudly, curling its warm body up to settle for the night on Sweeney's foot.

"_MEOW"_

"SH! Will get off me and stop doin' that or you'll blow my cover! Oh for god's sake, I'm talking to a bloody cat! That's the sort of thing Eleanor…" he paused, touching his blue lips and smirked. "…would do."

'_That's how I'll do it! The only way I'm gettin' near that book is if I am to act like her! Now how would she do it? Ah…'_

He knelt down quickly, picking the silky black cat up in his arms.

"Come on puss, I 'ave an idea. An' you my little fleabag, just might make this shit plan work."

The tabby snuggled into his hold, closing its eyes.

He walked through the pitch black shop, just managing to spot the door leading to the parlour. The cat purred and nuzzled its damp nose on the skin under Sweeney's chin.

"Stop it _fleabag,_" he snapped, flinching when the cat's wet tongue licked his neck. "Ugh! Stop it or I'll splat you 'gainst the wall!"

After a few more steps, he'd blindly made it into Eleanor's parlour, he was careful where he stepped. The fire was annoyingly not on so the place was freezing and a lot darker than it habitually was, disappointing both Sweeney _and _the cat.

"Wonderful," he breathed, looking around him to see nothing but pointless shadows of normal furniture. "Can't see a bloody thing!"

It was so cold in there! Colder than his shop! He could see his breath right in front of him!

The cat meowed lowly and jumped from his grasp.

"_MEEEEEEEEEEEEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW W"_

"Shh! Shh! You'll wake 'er up!"

The cat pawed his shin gently, but still managed to scrape its claws over him.

"Ow! What did y—"

He suddenly realised that the cat was trying to help him, since this odd cat had even found a way into Mrs Lovett's shop (Eleanor always locked up very well, the only reason Mr Todd had gotten in was because he had a key), let alone in the dark, it must have been very clever. And it was just a bonus that cats happened to have night vision.

Without a word, Sweeney forward, until the feline let go of his trouser leg. A dim glow greeted his eyes from a panoramic sized slit underneath a door… _Her _door. The cat vibrated with liking for Mr Todd and nuzzled his legs.

"Wow… clever one aren't you?" he muttered, smirking. "Shan't be callin' y'fleabag anymore." The cat meowed and gripped its paws onto his shin again, pulling his leg down, causing his knee to collide with Eleanor's door.

"OW! You… FLEABAG! I take that back! Little… shit that's what you are."

The cat let go of him and meowed.

The barber took a deep breath and turned the door knob, feeling adrenaline rush through him as the door swung open without any noise. Flickering candles lit the room, but it wasn't overly bright so it would keep anyone awake.

Without haste, Sweeney trailed in, tabby cat on his tail.

The cat backed into the door, allowing to softly shut after them both.

"Too clever you are fleabag," he whispered, frowning. "So you might 'ave to help me okay?"

The cat didn't understand but meowed in response.

"Good. Now, if y'do this right, I might just keep you. So y'won't be a fleabag anymore alright?"

"…alriiightt…"

Sweeney glared the cat.

Did the cat just… talk?! No! Sweeney was tired and…

"…I wiiill do thiiss riiighttt…" the female voiced murmured.

Sweeney rolled his eyes and turned around, facing a sleeping Mrs Lovett on the bed. She'd been talking in her sleep… and hearing what the barber was saying. Well, at least she would think it was a dream if she woke up.

"Come on," he whispered, kneeling down on the carpet, crawling over to the bed. "I can't do this. I'll make too much noise."

The cat obediently followed, stopping next to him.

The barber motioned to the darkness underneath Eleanor's bed, and distinctly at the object that he'd picked the week before. The cat quickly ran under the bed, and disappeared from view.

Sweeney swallowed as he looked up from his place on the floor, and his eyes were met with Eleanor's peaceful face. So close was she… so close was he… so easy it was to… press his lips upon her mouth…

The faint dragging sound pulled him from her face. He looked down to find the tabbing cat taking the edge of the book into its mouth, pulling it further away from the bed.

"Stop," Sweeney murmured, crawling over to the now still diary on the floor.

The feline meowed and backed away, jumping up onto Eleanor's bed and curling up at the foot of the bed, where Eleanor's feet were.

Sweeney opened the book, frantically flicking through the twenty pages, seeing what was in there. The cat meowed, tearing him from the writing for a moment.

"Sh! If you're gonna sleep there be quiet!"

The cat groaned snidely.

He returned to the book, frowning as he flicked to the most recent pages.

'_Friday 9__th__ November_

_Just had the worst day of my life. Some men did terrible, unforgivable things to me. I dare not write them down. No one even cared to help me. Even though it's been the worst day of my life, I suppose you could say half of it was brilliant, Mr T has been awful kind to me. It's strange really. He's sat with me now, just watching me write this. I wonder if he can see what I'm writing. I hope not. Well, anyway. I don't really want to write about the bad things that have happened to me. If I did I would forever feel shame every time I flicked back to this page. And I most certainly have no one else to tell my story to. I've told Mr T, but I haven't told him everything. He wouldn't know what to do, or rather, he would and totally annihilate them, and he would get in serious illegal trouble then. That's the last thing I want to happen to him…'_

Sweeney swallowed, surprise in his eyes.

"…Sweeney…" she moaned, turning over under the warm covers.

His tortured eyes focused on her smiling face, how peaceful she did look.

He sighed and flicked to the next page, reading her flowing writing.

'_Monday 12__th__ November_

_I don't know what's going on with Mr T. I've been talking to him so much over the weekend that I haven't had time to write anything in here. He came in for breakfast, and I swore I saw him smile, or at least try to when I gave him an extra piece of toast! I really don't know what's wrong with that man—'_

Next page, the curious thoughts on him carried on.

Next page, more confused comments.

Next page, more questions.

'_Friday 16__th__ November_

_I'm tired, so I'll keep this short. I… don't know what to do. Or what to say. Mr T… Mr T is being odd and I think something is troubling him because he'd let more than 1 man go free today. And we've got hardly any meat for tomorrow, he wasn't killing many. But I have a feeling it's because of what he said to me earlier… he called me Lucy. I admit, I was not happy with him for calling me that, but he didn't have to go off and sulk did he? Or maybe it wasn't that. Maybe it was just because of me. Because I'm here. Because I exist. But then he kissed me. Not just once… several times. I know he was only proving a point but… that sort of thing is used as a last resort… I know he'd wanted to do it… I could see it when he came in, when I think back, and afterwards when he left… he'd gotten that wonderful starry glitter in his eyes… I love it when his eyes do that. I just want to kiss him myself. I love him, I really do, I just… don't know if he loves me. I'm scared that when he knows if he doesn't love me… or does… I'll miss the signs… I… Oh I don't know. I wish I did. I wish he knew too, so we wouldn't be in the bewildering mess! I'm so tired. And cold. I love you Sweeney. And I'll keep trying to tell you that until you know you feel the same.'_

Sweeney slammed the book shut, adding up the contents… The first page he'd ever read was now confirmed by everything he'd just read.

He looked down in shock, at the abandoned journal on the floor.

"S-Sweeney?" a hoarse, feminine voice called. "I-Is that you?"

Sweeney gasped and kicked the edge of the book, and then it slid back under the bed, back to its rightful place.

He didn't say anything and just turned, taking a few steps away from the bed where his accomplice sat up, with a serious case of bedhead…

'_Still makes her beautiful though,' _he thought, swallowing when her eyes opened a little more.

"W-Why—is this a dream? Am I jus' hallucinatin'?"

She got up, covers falling from her to reveal her barely covered body. Her pale ivory legs swung out of the edge of the bed, the cat growling in frustration from being disturbed.

"Uhm…"

She stood up, still half asleep, dark copper curls hanging wonderfully in place, tumbling down onto her shoulders.

"Y-Yes." He lied, averting his eyes so he wouldn't be enticed by her inviting looking body. "I am just a figment of your imagination." She tiredly moved towards him, frowning in bewilderment. She halted right in front of him, drooping eyes shining with hope, bliss and wonder.

"Ya are?" she whispered, tilting her chin to study him. "But… Ya look so… _real."_

He still did not look at her, he just look 'stoically' away, hoping that she'd just… no. He wanted her not to leave him be. That's why he'd read her diary. That's why he cared about her. That's why she was his secret.

He felt her warm hands on his cold frosty neck, burning fingers caressing his skin lightly.

"_You even feel real."_

"Perhaps…" he breathed quietly, meeting her half open eyes. "I _am _real. And I only told you were hallucinating to make you come over here."

She frowned and cupped his face, standing on her tiptoes, "I know ya ain't real Sweeney. I mean y'wouldn't even be down 'ere if ya _were_ real. An' If ya were real, I wouldn't do this."

"What?"

She hooked her arms around his neck and pressed her hot lips against his cold, neglected ones.

He kissed back, feeling himself falling back into the wall, Eleanor still hanging onto him, mouths working nonchalantly.

Soon they found themselves working into a heated kiss, tongues rubbing and twisting against each other's feverishly. They moaned, wanting to taste, feel, smell, touch each other more, more and more. His hand found her leg and he clutched onto it, loving the bareness and softness of it. He brought her leg up, allowing her to curl it around his waist. Her other leg automatically followed, twirling around his middle.

She pulled away from him, gasping. "Sleep with me," she whispered, looking up at him through tired, hopeful eyes. "Even if you're not real. Please…"

He frowned, "I can't do that…"

"No I don' mean that… Jus'… sleep by my side. Please."

He nodded, "I'm real y'know."

She giggled and kissed him again, and he walked them both over to her bed. The cat hissed at them both as the bed bounced at the added weight; he lay her down onto her mattress…

Their lips never left each other as he kicked off his shoes, she threw the covers over the two of them, just leaving warmth all around them.

He paused, holding himself up over her, white streak in his hair illuminated from the candles' glow, eyes swirling with something yet again unknown, and glittering.

"Thank you." Eleanor whispered, stroking his neck with both hands. He nodded, too lost in her eyes to give a damn about being thanked. She hadn't needed to say that, just a kiss, something to keep him warm, would have been enough thanks, so his was truly thankful for even being able to hover above her now… So warm… so cosy…

"This is jus' for warmth right?" she asked, wide eyed now her heart was racing ten to the dozen.

"Mmm. Yes." He lied, knowing it was for a completely different reason, now that he'd read her diary. "Just for warmth. Obviously."

Before she could say another word he dipped his head, catching her mouth in a tender, luscious kiss and because his hands were either side of her body, it made him conduct the most skilful movements as he kissed her. She moaned, he groaned and both wanted to get even closer to one another.

The tongues started again, making them both grip onto each other with an urgent need, tenderness definitely being demonstrated here.

When she started to moaned too much and slip her hand down to the front of his trousers, he pulled away, gulping in fresh, sub-zero air. "No," he gasped, going from his position of hovering over her, to collapsing onto the bed next her. "We can't."

"We can," she whispered hoarsely, stroking his chest. "I won't tell anyone."

"That's called keeping secrets Eleanor. We promised no secrets."

"Yeah, I know! But I meant… this can be a shared secret… No one will 'ave t'know!"

"I… still don't think its right. It's not fair on me or you."

"It is! Honestly!"

He swallowed and kissed her again, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

She moaned and reached her hand down again…

"No." he snapped, pulling away. "No… Not… not yet."

She smiled, nodding. "Alright. I'm sorry. I … were takin' that a bit far."

He nodded back, knowing that underneath that him saying 'Not Yet' meant 'Yes but not now'. Oh he could see the hope in her eyes now.

He turned away from her, curling up into the foetus position, suddenly finding that sleep wouldn't come.

She kissed his jaw and curled up too, only in fashion so that she could cling to his back.

He eyes instantly drooped and sleep felt like it couldn't come sooner. Now that she'd come closer, hugging to his back, he felt complete, at ease—despite the fact his heart was leaping at a sprinting pace because of her close proximity.

He wasn't sure why he'd felt so sleepy again when she'd cuddled to him, but he felt comfortable, cared for and warm. Just like he'd been when he was Benjamin Barker… only… it was different. The whole emotion was different.

He didn't know what she'd done to him.

But he had the feeling…

He was under her spell.


	5. Part 5

**Thanks to these wonders for reviewing! :**

**The infamous hogwarts jaguar00, EllieLovettBovine, Redejeka, Noodlemantra, AppropriateAsAlways, Lily, cookies (thanks for giving me some criticism, helped me along in this chapter ;)), Burtonized Lady HellRat… x4…, LovettHelenaist and HellieLovett! This chapter a bit shorter, but the next one will be longer :)  
**

* * *

***There's No Secrets This Year***

***-Part 5-***

_Tap. Tap. Tap_

Cursed noise!

The barber frowned in annoyance, clenching his teeth.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

He turned over, pulling Eleanor close to him. He draped his arm over her; she whimpered a little.

_Protection_

_Tap. Tap. Tap. "P-Please…"_

Sweeney growled and took his arm away from the snoozing baker. He lifted the covers and swivelled out of the bed, placing them carefully back over Eleanor. Cold, icy daggers of air hit his body as he stood up, but it was not as bad as before.

He slipped on his shoes, shivering a bit.

_Intruder_

_Murder_

_Surrender?_

The noise. He had to find out what it was. To protect her, to… keep her warm, to keep her happy…

* * *

He wasn't meant to be there.

_Go back, go back while you can. Before you actually get there…_

She'd distinctly told him to leave, to flee and never return. Seems as though the young lad couldn't help himself, since he hardly any say in what he was to do. Whether he liked it or not, the lad _had _to return to Mrs Lovett's Pie Emporium—it was that or you'd gradually degrade yourself so much as a street urchin, that the pompous top hat wearer would toss into the workhouse—he didn't want to be in there again.

He'd rather mend his broken chain with the obviously distraught baker, she had clearly just been in a mood that day—it seems plausible, he hadn't come back for a good week. Yes. Her reaction was at least… a _little _understandable.

Toby shivered and buttoned up his thin cotton jacket, rubbing his bare hands together as he swiftly rounded the corner; and there, was the familiar grimy yet homey sight of Fleet Street.

He felt like he belonged there.

At Fleet Street he could just _be there, _instead of being a neglected outsider.

He managed a smile, but his lips were so numb from the cold early morning air that it was more of smirk.

Before he knew what was happening, he had carried himself all the way to Mrs Lovett's door, his mind an elastic band of feelings at that moment… What was he—confused or happy? He wasn't so sure.

He paused as he peered through the square windows next to the door; it was dark inside, no candles lit, no stray gin bottles lying around, no blighter in sight.

The boy bit his lip, clutching his arms around him. If he didn't get in soon, he was certain he'd die of the cold soon.

He tapped on the window, the one trapped in the frame of Mrs Lovett's door, but clearly the shy action had no effect on any sort of response whatsoever. He knocked again.

A tear slowly slid from his eye and he whimpered, wondering if Mrs Lovett had moved away, with Mr Todd. And not Toby. Just the two of them… abandoning little Toby.

"No," he whispered. "No th-they wouldn't…."

He let out a shuddery breath.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

"P-please!" he begged hoarsely. "Mrs Lovett! P-Please l-lemme in!"

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

"_MEOW"_

Toby stopped, hugging himself for warmth, eyes squinting into the darkness inside the shop.

Light… He could see a dim glow of… light.

She'd heard him! Warmth! Happiness! Confusion….

He closed his eyes imagining sitting by the fire in the parlour, warm under the woollen blankets as he sipped a cup of cocoa… if Mrs Lovett _had _any cocoa.

_Click_

_Turn_

_Open_

Warmth flooded out from the shop and Toby gasped, opening his eyes from being overwhelmed by the stifling climate.

"Toby?!"

His hazel eyes flicked up in surprise, meeting with Mr Todd's coal black one's. He'd never looked him in the eyes before. And now he seemed even more frightening, with that entire blanket of darkness behind him—the only source of light was in his hand, and illuminated him as if he were a saint, giving him a golden glow.

"M-Mr T-T-Tod-d-d!" he replied, teeth chattering from the cold, and being slightly intimidated.

"_MEOW"_

Toby frowned, looking by Mr T's feet.

"Uhm, is that _your _cat Mr Todd?!"

"Um… _no. _Now get inside."

"Ay? But Mrs Lovett said…"

"Never mind that boy, inside now before I leave you outside, and watch you freeze your little arse off whilst I 'ave a nice cup 'o tea." The barber said monotonously, never blinking.

Toby glared at the cat and rushed in, staying near Mr Todd (for the light, he didn't want to go into the darkness… he didn't know what was there).

The door swung closed silently.

"Sit boy, we need to talk."

"I can't be 'ere! Mrs Lovett said—"

"Elean—I mean—Mrs Lovett is sleeping. She won't know you're 'ere. And I couldn't well leave you out there could I? I'm not particularly fond of you boy, but as you're young and need a bit of guidance in life, I'd thought I'd let you in. Even though it is _two in the morning_!"

Mr Todd sat down in one of the booths, carefully placing the candle down onto the table before him.

"Sit boy," he whispered, frowning.

Toby immediately obeyed, feeling a lot warmer now he was inside and talking to someone, even if it was the sinister barber.

"You know you should have never left El—Mrs Lovett that night Toby, don't you?" he asked quietly, it was as if he was shy of questioning the lad. It was rather out of character for him.

"I know," Toby said, nodding, looking at the dripping wax on the table from the candle. "But I were excited, I'd never been to the opera before!"

Mr Todd scowled at the boy shaking his head. "You learn to contain such emotions. If cannot now, then perhaps you never will." He paused and met the lad's frightened eyes. "She ran after you. But y'were too fast," he whispered, averting his eyes when the lad glared at him.

"What 'appened?"

"Think about it boy! It was a dark night, Mrs Lovett was alone and she had no one to turn to!"

"Ya mean… those men… got… her. Don't ya?" Toby breathed.

"Yes."

"And she's blames me fer it 'cause I were the one that left her."

Sweeney sighed, "Yes."

"But I wasn't the one that left her," Toby said, frowning. "_You _were."

Sweeney gritted his teeth, "What?!"

"Mrs Lovett said tha' you refused to go with us. So if ya _did _go, she wouldn't 'ave been attacked by those men."

"H-How… _dare _you pass the blame on to me! If anything, I am trying to tell _you _it's not just _your _fault! And now, why should I if you think it is _my fault? Because it is not! It's the ones who attacked her!"_

Toby scoffed. He hated being put in his place, but he knew he deserved it.

"Now, take that back, and I can help you." Sweeney stated, making Toby fidget under his gaze.

Toby nodded, slightly confused, "'Course. Sorry."

"If you are to stay here boy, you cannot stay with Mrs Lovett. You are to stay upstairs, out of her way."

"But, I'll be useless up there!"

"No you won't, you shall be my assistant for a while, before you find further work."

"Why can't I work wi' Mrs Lovett?"

"She hates you."

"Oh."

"You shall stay upstairs and Mrs Lovett is not to know about your existence. Am I understood?"

Toby gulped and nodded.

Sweeney stood suddenly, snatching the candle before Toby could reach for it—what did the lad expect?

"Come," the barber said quietly, gesturing towards the door.

"_MEOW"_

"Is tha' your cat, Sir?"

Sir? Sweeney smirked, turning away from him. "Yes, actually. Yes. She's mine."

"Wot she called?"

"Alastor."

"Wot?"

"Alastor."

"Oh… okay."

Sweeney smirked.

Promises weren't the same as secrets.

He hadn't made a promise to Toby. He'd told a _lie_. The only way Toby would be out of the way of Mrs Lovett, was if he never existed. And that was what Sweeney was about to do…

He was going to make the lad non-existent.

The lad would stay upstairs in the trunk until he found somewhere to dump him.

And no one would care.

Toby was an urchin… one of the unmissed.

Mrs Lovett wouldn't know either, and wouldn't care.

_Betrayal_

To kill is to win.

And by killing Toby, Sweeney would win Mrs Lovett.

And that was the most important thing to him.

She was his woman with the dark auburn hair and the dark brown eyes.

_His_


	6. Part 6

**Thank you to-**

**HellieLovett, Redejeka, RubyRosette5, EllieLovettBovine , Burtonized Lady HellRat, jjsaywat97, Noodlemantra, dionne dance, cookies, hervissa and an extraordinary Guest!**

**- for reviewing!**

**Chapter song choice: Fix You/Yellow by Coldplay :P x (These songs set the mood very well :) )**

* * *

***-Part 6-***

_Four days later..._

Nellie slowly trundled into her shop, smiling at Mr Todd, who was already seated in his usual place for breakfast, eyeing the table in uninterest.

"Mornin' Mr T!" she exclaimed cheerfully, beaming a radiant smile over at him. "Good sleep? Ay?"

He said nothing and just frowned, glaring at the newspaper on the opposite side of the table. How had he forgotten about that? He'd promised himself that he'd get rid of it! And yet he hadn't!

Mrs Lovett hummed a tune, and frowned curiously at his alarm from her place by the counter. He was sat up, straight backed, stiff and proper and clearly something was on his mind as he stared down at the newspaper, chewing his lip.

After a while, (he still hadn't moved an inch) Eleanor smiled and brought him a plate full of breakfast, pile of toast precariously placed on the edge of the plate. She carefully set it down in front of him. He quickly lifted his head up to face her, eyes wide and unafraid of looking at her. She jumped and gulped, eyes just as bright as his when she met his eyes.  
He lowered his gaze back down to the plate and mumbled his thanks, and she scuttled away from him as fast as she could. She took her own plate from her counter and took as much time as she could muster so that she wouldn't have to react to that odd gaze he held...

Sweeney's eyes widened further when she took the seat opposite him, smiling happily.

He snatched the newspaper away from her, tearing it to shreads in his hands, rendering her speechless.

"Er... M-Mr T? I were gonna read that." she stated matter-of-factly. "No use torn t'pieces is it?!"

"It wasn't interestin' anyway. You would've found it borin'." he piped up, quickly necking his tea and gobbling up his food to busy himself; anything he could do to stop himself from having to talk about that damn newspaper.

"Mr T! I can't believe ya! I've cooked ya a breakfast, given ya a roof over y'head and now..."

"Yeah, well, I've saved heartbreak for y'this time Mrs Lovett. If you'd read that newspaper, you'd been in floods of tears. An'... I've already seen enough of that this past week. I don't need to see it again."

She slurped her tea and frowned, wondering what the hell he was on about. What was in it that would hurt Eleanor so much? It can't have been that bad! Most of the stories in the papers were fluke tales anyway, no one really believed them. She scoffed and bit into a slice of toast, giving her tenant the most evil eyes she could muster. Unfortunately, it was no use as he was too focued on looking down at the plate of food he was eating, so it was a lost emotion as the minutes went by. He was acting so... oddly. Something he'd seen in the paper had clearly touched a nerve with him...

She lifted up her cup and saucer, bringing it to her lips as she studied him.

The barber paused, dropping his knife and fork onto the plate with a clatter.

He looked up, meeting her studious eyes, and frowned.

"What?"

"Why'd ya rip up the newspaper?"

"You'd kill me if I told you. Or you wouldn't, you probably wouldn't be able to live with yourself..." he whispered, pausing as he took in a shuddery breath. "...You'd be like me. And I don't want you to be like me... I'm... lifeless. Only existent for revenge. You know that."

She shook her head, not quite following his drift, "Why? Why would I be like you, Mr T?"

He sighed, seeing no other way out of it.

He was going to have to tell her...

"I... don't wanna 'urt you," he whispered, wincing into a flinch of suffering and confusion. "If I tell you, you'll never forgive me for telling you."

She tutted and rolled her eyes, placing her cup of tea back on the table. "Come on! It can't be 'at bad!"

"Toby." he said quite simply, raven eyes suddenly sad and less alarmed.

Eleanor searched his eyes, confused and lost in horror stricken thoughts. She'd left Toby on his own, to fend for himself... What had happened? Was the boy alright? She knew she shouldn't have just shouted at him like that... He...

In truth she had expected him back by now. And she'd completely forgotten about the lad... after all, she was still recovering from... the attack. She'd needed to get her own life back on track first.

"Toby," Mr Todd repeated, voice wobbling. "He's... he's dead, Eleanor. I'm... I'm so so sorry..."

Eleanor sat, unmoving, mouth opening and closing, words choking and not registering.

_"D-Dead?"_

He stood up quickly, rushing to the other side of the table to tend to her. She crumbled then, when he pulled her from the chair to embrace her in comfort. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her sniffling the only thing the two of them could hear, apart from the occasional hushes from Sweeney. She clung to him, hands gripping his chest for (what seemed like) dear life. Her body collided into his, counting on him to support her body.

"Sh, Nellie. I'm here. It's okay... Shhh..."

* * *

_A month later..._

Nellie faked a smile, waving off the rest of her customers, clearing away the dirty plates.

She huffed, drooping her eyes to stop herself for breaking down. Her bones were slowly turning in a pile of a dust, barely able to stand upright by herself. The exhaustion and fatigue ws really getting to her; she had to do so much on her own, still plodding on through her grief and guilt.

She scrubbed the counter, needing to busy herself to wipe away her thoughts on Toby... deceased little... Toby.

The door opened, bell ringing out and alarming her.

"Sorry love," she choked out, turning her back to them and trying not to cry. "We're closed..."

"I thought you'd want some 'elp," Mr Todd's voice said lowly, causing her to rotate to face him.

"Mr T? Why... I..."

"You've already done enough work," he told her, advancing towards the counter with a stern expression. "For... the funeral I mean. You go lie yourself down, 'ave a rest this week..."

"No. I need t'do somethin'. I can't go t'sleep... 'e'll be there... _hauntin' me!"_

"He won't," he whispered, eyes glittering with friendly looking shadows."I wanna help you, Eleanor. Please, just_ let_ me."

_"I'm copin' perfectly well!"_

He cleared his throat and motioned to the tables behind him, all cluttered with dirty pots and plates, togs and tips. She sighed and held her head ion hands on the recently cleaned counter.  
"I'm not,"she admitted, sniffling into her palms. "I'm... _not..."_

"Then.." he breathed, suddenly standing next to her, swivelling her around to face him. "Let me help you."

She straightened her back, taking her hands away from her head to look at him. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, tears cutting into her flushed cheeks. He winced when he gazed into her eyes,  
not liking the way she looked at him with such a reflection of himself... grieving, falling, _longing._

He took hold of her hands, not allowing her to bring them up to cover her eyes.

She looked up at him through sore eyes, realising just how close to her he actually was. Her eyes drooped when his head dipped slightly, his own eyes repeating her action. He brought her hands up so they rested on his chest, their noses just touching... mouths twitching as were a mere centimetre away from the others...His hands dropped from her own, arms gently curling protectively around her curvy middle.

"Mrs Lo- _Oh. S-Sorry ma'am..."_ a boy's voice called out from somewhere to the side of them, where the door was. Eleanor cleared her throat and took herself away from the barber, shooting a forced smile towards the lad.

"S'alright love. Can I 'elp ya?"

She cast an innocent glance over to Sweeney, who was studying her with those glosssy black eyes of his.

The boy coughed and walked further in, no longer finding the moment awkward. The shop's door slammed behind him and he jumped, eyeing the two adults nervously.

"Uhm... I jus' wondered... Well, we're lightin' some lanterns for Toby on Hampstead Heath... Me bein' one of 'is friends_ o' course,"_ he rambled, wringing his hands. "W-Wanna join us?"

Eleanor smiled and nodded, tears beginning to fill her eyes.

"G-Great!" he cried, eyes lighting up. "We'll start lightin' 'em when you get there!"

He scampered out of the shop, forgetting to stop the door slamming after himself.

* * *

Eleanor wrapped her scarf around her neck, exiting her shop, already shivering from the cold.

She cuddled her arms around herself, biting her blue lips to warm them up.

_"Eleanor!"_ Sweeney shouted, causing her to halt and turn to face him. He raced down the stairs, dressed in his trench coat and some old fingerless he'd probably found from fifteen years ago.

"You're not goin' on your _own_ are you?" he gasped, jogging up to her, hands rubbing together.

She frowned, studying him quizically, "I always go places on me own, 'cos you never want t'go wiv me."

"I... do. I've only just... _realised."_

She sighed and nodded, silently accepting his presence by her side. She started walking immediately, meaning once again Sweeney had to run to catch her up. They rounded the corner, entering a more deserted street. The cyan moonlight rained down over them as they walked at a steady pace, in a dramatic silence that Sweeney felt quite uncomfortable with. There wasn't anyone else on the street apart from rogues and pickpockets, but since they saw that wicked gleam of white in Sweeney's hair... they tended to step right back and ignore them both.

Soon, after endless gas lit streets, and twists and turns; they had arrived at Hampstead Heath, where a group of kids of all ages just above or below the age Toby had been. It was easy to say that the children were his friends, they all smiled at them both when the couple came over to them. The moon was big and already had a tremendous glow to illuminate the blades over grass under their feet.

The lanterns were lain out next to a little flowing stream, the water was set deep in the dip in between the hill they were all stood on, and another deserted one.

The kids were laughing and queueing up in front of the eldest one, who held a box of matches in his hand.

"What do we do?" Sweeney whispered, not getting a single acknowledgement from Eleanor.

She sat down on the grass, smiling as the children chattered loudly, excitedly.

"Sit," she whispered, patting the crisp blades of grass next to her. He obliged, slowly setting himself down next to her, gazing at her face, and longing for her to turn so he just look into her eyes.

Now, all the children had lit matches, and rushed down the hill, sprinting towards the abandoned lanterns by the trickling river.

Eleanor smiled and shuffled closer to Sweeney, taking hold of his hand. "Thank you," she whispered, lifting up her head to face him. He nodded, stern expression on his features.

The children held the lanterns up as far up as they could reach, flicking the candle into the main box where the candle wick was stood. They all counted to three, and then threw the lanterns into the sky, lighting up the atmosphere with a multicoloured glow. They gasped and huddled together, pointing up at them as they floated higher and higher into the air.

Sweeney squeezed her hand, flickering lanterns reflected in his eyes.

Eleanor turned to face him, sitting even nearer to him to explore his eyes. He swallowed and gazed back at her, placing his arms around her. The lanterns were flying high now, all of them would be able to have been seen from miles away, the colours spreading across the sky.

He brought her closer, getting a tight grip around her waist. She closed her eyes and leaned forward into him, letting him know how much she really trusted him. His eyelids dropped and felt her nose brush over his... her plump, throbbing lips pushed against his, her arms untangling to rub her hands over his chest. She whimpered, pulling back; he frowned in a bewildered way but she didn't react, didn't even take her hands away from him.

_"I love you,"_ she whispered, eyes clearing of empty grey clouds, and now she was dying for him to say it back.

He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but he couldn't find his voice. She took a deep breath and lifted her head to catch his lips, slipping her tongue through his lips, meeting his own inside. As he kissed her, and as much as he tried to deny it to himself, Sweeney knew he mirrored her feelings towards him, only they for her instead. Her scent was now permenant and prominent to his senses; her touch was becoming more and more familiar... he liked it.

As the lanterns flew higher, and the children's gasps slowly faded away; the baker and the baker seemed to drift into their own little world, too lost in the romance of one another to pay attention to anything else. All the lies they'd told each other, all the promises they'd broken, all of the insults they'd taken... they just...

_Shattered._

Burst into a million pieces.

Their feelings for each other were certified there and then, one feeling the other's passion in their caresses and their kisses.

_It was their own revelation; their own escapism._

Secrets were shared.

And they both liked what they found out.

* * *

**Hi! Thanks for reading! I THINK there will be more, I haven't decided yet. But I'm sure there will be!**

**SecretSparrowTodd ;)**

**~Keep writing, reading and reviewing xx**


End file.
